#Evidence-Based Decision Making

[thetrainingnetwork]

Data, once the golden thread of healthcare, is now on the chopping block. Performance indicators vanish, insight fades. In pursuit of efficiency, NHS risks flying blind into a future of false economies.

[littleoddwriter]

So many people -- especially cis men -- not understanding why Elisabeth takes the Substance in the first place, and then continues to take it, despite Sue destroying her/them, is really frustrating for me to see.

Listen. If you make a video essay or write an analysis or whatever, but you don't understand possibly the most important theme of the entire movie, then maybe... do more research first and don't just continue to say everything about said theme is "stupid" because you fail to understand it. That is stupid.

Elisabeth is plagued by intense self-hatred that's been fuelled and made worse by outside forces; i.e. comments made about her age, body, importance, and worth -- and how all of that depends on her being young and sexy; but also just the general misogyny in our society and the industry she works in. People, who have been assigned female at birth, are confronted with that kind of misogyny from day one, essentially.

And Elisabeth is so desparate in the movie, so full of raging hatred toward her own ageing body that she'd do absolutely anything to "go back" and continue to live the life she's known best and felt "most comfortable (worthy)" with. Thus, the Substance is the very real chance she gets to do that with. It works well at first, until "Sue" becomes too greedy, for the lack of a better word.

Here's the thing where most people get confused, despite how much the movie emphasises it.

Elisabeth and Sue are one. They are still the same person, simply split into two bodies, but with one singular consciousness, which basically goes from one body to the other week after week. They both experience the same things every week, but are so dissociated from the "other self" that to some people it may seem like they aren't actually the same person, because Sue often doesn't seem to remember exactly what Elisabeth did during her week, and vice versa.

To me, that's not as confusing because I deal with dissociation myself, and my understanding of it here would be that Elisabeth's self-hatred forces this kind of dissociation between her true self and Sue, who is the perfect version of herself. She's so focused on Sue being perfect and better than her "true self" that they've become different people in her mind.

In her own mind, she can't associate Sue with herself, with Elisabeth, because she -- as Elisabeth -- is nothing like Sue (anymore) and could never be her. Elisabeth, now, only exists to further Sue. To keep Sue alive and successful and living her dream, Elisabeth needs to exist. But that's all the purpose she really has now. Of course, yes, she tried to actually live a normal life as Elisabeth in the beginning, but she was unhappy and couldn't do it because this self-hatred had gotten the best of her. All the time, she could only anticipate to be Sue again and continue to live her "true life".

This kind of self-hatred is incredibly vicious. Every chance Elisabeth had to go back to being just her, she couldn't take it. Even when she ended up terminating Sue, she regretted it and tried to reverse it, which ended in her death.

Self-hatred is not logical, and it can and does alter somebody's perception of themselves and the world around them so much that it can and does result in that person's death, be that figurative or literal. Unless, of course, that person gets the help they need. But for that, they'd have to actually admit that something is "wrong", and also be ready to change things.

I think it says a lot about how necessary a movie like this is when so many people misunderstand it, despite being so obvious with everything it's trying to say. A lot of people have complained about The Substance not being a subtle movie, yet at the same time, those people are most often the ones, who question Elisabeth's motivations and don't understand the most important theme of the movie -- self-hatred.

[litebulbs-art]

Bandit, can't you see she's trying to work? Lineart by @knucklebl4ster, colours by me.

[wonder-worker]

"Among their complaints [in 1460, the Yorkists] specifically blamed the earls of Wiltshire and Shrewsbury and Viscount Beaumont for ‘stirring’ the king [Henry VI] to hold a parliament at Coventry that would attaint them and for keeping them from the king’s presence and likely mercy, asserting that this was done against [the king's] will. To this they added the charge that these evil counselors were also tyrannizing other true men* without the king’s knowledge. Such claims of malfeasance obliquely raised the question of Henry’s fitness as a king, for how could he be deemed competent if such things happened without his knowledge and against his wishes? They also tied in rumors circulating somewhat earlier in the southern counties and likely to have originated in Calais that Henry was really ‘good and gracious Lord to the [Yorkists] since, it was alleged, he had not known of or assented to their attainders. On 11 June the king was compelled to issue a proclamation stating that they were indeed traitors and that assertions to the contrary were to be ignored."

— Helen Maurer, Margaret of Anjou: "Queenship and Power in Late Medieval England

Three things that we can surmise from this:

We know where the "Henry was an innocent helpless king being controlled and manipulated by his Evil™ advisors" rhetoric came from**.

The Yorkists were deliberately trying to downplay Henry VI's actual role and involvement in politics and the Wars of the Roses. They cast him as a "statue of a king", blamed all royal policies and decisions on others*** (claiming that Henry wasn't even aware of them), and framed themselves as righteous and misunderstood counselors who remained loyal to the crown. We should keep this in mind when we look at chronicles' comments of Henry's alleged passivity and the so-called "role reversal" between him and Margaret.

Henry VI's actual agency and involvement is nevertheless proven by his own actions. We know what he thought of the Yorkists, and we know he took the effort to publicly counter their claims through a proclamation of his own. That speaks louder than the politically motivated narrative of his enemies, don't you think?

*There was some truth to these criticisms. For example, Wiltshire (ie: one of the men named in the pamphlet) was reportedly involved in a horrible situation in June which included hangings and imprisonments for tax resistance in Newbury. The best propagandists always contain a degree of truth, etc. **I've seen some theories on why Margaret of Anjou wasn't mentioned in these pamphlets alongside the others even though she was clearly being vilified during that time as well, and honestly, I think those speculations are mostly unnecessary. Margaret was absent because it was regarded as very unseemly to target queens in such an officially public manner. We see a similar situation a decade later: Elizabeth Woodville was vilified and her whole family - popularly and administratively known as "the queen's kin" - was disparaged in Warwick and Clarence's pamphlets. This would have inevitably associated her with their official complaints far more than Margaret had been, but she was also not directly mentioned. It was simply not considered appropriate. ***This narrative was begun by the Duke of York & Warwick and was - demonstrably - already widespread by the end of 1460. When Edward IV came to power, there seems to have been a slight shift in how he spoke of Henry (he referred to Henry as their "great enemy and adversary"; his envoys were clearly willing to acknowledge Henry's role in Lancastrian resistance to Yorkist rule; etc), but he nevertheless continued the former narrative for the most part. I think this was because 1) it was already well-established and widespread by his father, and 2) downplaying Henry's authority would have served to emphasize Edward's own kingship, which was probably advantageous for a usurper whose deposed rival was still alive and out of reach. In some sense, the Lancastrians did the same thing with their own propaganda across the 1460s, which was clearly not as effective in terms of garnering support and is too long to get into right now, but was still very relevant when it came to emphasizing their own right to the throne while disparaging the Yorkists' claim.

[coochiequeens]

In concluding their piece, Lahl and Fell said: 'The authors' suggestion that medical providers should deviate from the principle of 'do no harm' to follow paths where the evidence indicates harm is quite shocking.""This perspective, driven more by ideology, emotions, and personal desires than by evidence, conflicts with the foundations of evidence-based medicine.'

MSU sociology professor Dr. Carla Pfeffer is slammed over scientific journal article saying trans men should be allowed to take testosterone while pregnant, despite warnings hormones may trigger severe health issues in fetuses

Dr. Carla Pfeffer published a paper alongside five other academics concerning the use of testosterone therapy during transgender pregnancy 

The sociology professor and her cohorts have since been slammed by two nurses for disregarding the safety of a fetus 'in the name of trans inclusion'

Jennifer Lahl and Kallie Fell hit back at the study, deeming one portion of it 'quite frankly, insane'

By JOE HUTCHISON FOR DAILYMAIL.COM

PUBLISHED: 10:37 EDT, 20 October 2023

A professor has been slammed over a scientific journal in which she said trans man should be allowed to take testosterone while pregnant, despite warnings it could trigger severe health issues.

Dr. Carla Pfeffer, who is not a medical doctor, penned a new paper alongside five other academics titled 'Medical uncertainty and reproduction of the 'normal': Decision-making around testosterone therapy in transgender pregnancy.

Pfeffer, who is a sociology professor at Michigan State University, argues that pregnancy care is too focused on helping women have healthy babies, and that trans men might be fine to take testosterone while pregnant.

The authors , who are sociologists, have since been accused of choosing to disregard the safety of a developing fetus 'in the name of trans inclusion'.

In a scathing response to the paper, two nurses have criticized the article saying if abiding by their take 'would land us in a vacuum devoid of medical ethics'.

Dr Carla Pfeffer, pictured here, published a paper alongside five other academics concerning the use of testosterone therapy during transgender pregnancy

The sociology professor and her cohorts have since been slammed by two nurses for disregarding the safety of a fetus 'in the name of trans inclusion'

Authors Jennifer Lahl and Kallie Fell, who is the Executive Director at The Center for Bioethics and Culture, published a response to the paper titled: 'Is There a Doctor in the House?'

In it, they said: 'The authors argue that 'gendered' pregnancy care is too focused on helping women have healthy babies, and that it might be okay for transmen to continue taking testosterone during pregnancy despite the known health risks to the fetus and effects on its normal development. 

'This is, quite frankly, insane.'

In the paper, Pfeffer and her fellow colleagues had studied 70 international trans individuals and 22 health care providers who focus on trans people. 

Their paper says: 'We argue that in the context of lacking and uncertain medical evidence (HRT with testosterone during pregnancy and chest feeding) in a highly gendered treatment context (pregnancy and lactation care), both patients and providers tend to pursue precautionary, offspring-focused treatment approaches.'

In response, Lahl and Fell say the findings are flawed as only biologically fertile human females possess the attributes for pregnancy and childbirth. 

The two label this 'a simple biological reality', saying that pregnancy care isn't 'gendered' at all. 

According to the Mayo Clinic, testosterone may cause birth defects if a pregnant woman comes into contact with it. 

Lahl and Fell also added: 'The concerns raised by Pfeffer and colleagues focus on the modern treatment approach physicians take, which they deem excessively 'precautionary' and 'offspring-focused.' 

Kal Fell, front, and Jennifer Lahl, background, published a response to the paper titled: 'Is There a Doctor in the House?'

'Fortunately, caring for the child and the mother are neither mutually exclusive nor zero-sum. 

'In situations where a woman aspires to become pregnant and commits to motherhood, physicians can provide care that optimizes outcomes for both parties while minimizing potential harm. 

'If a woman chooses to continue a pregnancy, doesn't the developing fetus also have a right to the four principles of medical ethics?'

'In such cases, the physician is duty-bound to care for both the child and the mother.'

One health care provider also told researchers: 'I think if you choose to have a pregnancy and your female hormone levels would be already so high that testosterone probably wouldn't even mentally help.

'If you're producing breast milk and you couldn't be without testosterone for mental health, if you couldn't deal without testosterone, then you probably shouldn't be pregnant.'

In concluding their piece, Lahl and Fell said: 'The authors' suggestion that medical providers should deviate from the principle of 'do no harm' to follow paths where the evidence indicates harm is quite shocking. 

'This perspective, driven more by ideology, emotions, and personal desires than by evidence, conflicts with the foundations of evidence-based medicine.'

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Character Flaws and Their Meanings

Impulsiveness : Acts on instinct without careful planning. Perfectionism : Sets unrealistically high standards, leading to self-criticism. Indecisiveness : Struggles to commit to decisions or choose a path. Arrogance : Overestimates one’s abilities and dismisses others. Pessimism : Habitually expects negative outcomes in most situations. Cynicism : Distrusts the motives and sincerity of others. Overconfidence : Places excessive faith in one’s skills, often underestimating risks. Stubbornness : Resists change and refuses to adapt to new ideas. Jealousy : Feels envious of others' success or possessions. Insecurity : Experiences frequent self-doubt and a lack of confidence. Procrastination : Tends to delay tasks, often leading to missed opportunities. Passivity : Avoids taking initiative and relies on others to act. Aggressiveness : Responds with hostility or force rather than reason. Selfishness : Prioritizes personal gain over the welfare of others. Fragility : Is overly sensitive to criticism and easily discouraged. Egotism : Constantly focuses on oneself and one’s own importance. Defensiveness : Quickly rejects or rationalizes away critique or new information. Manipulativeness : Exploits others to fulfill personal needs or desires. Recklessness : Shows a careless disregard for potential risks or consequences. Resentfulness : Holds lingering bitterness and grudges over perceived wrongs. Distractibility : Finds it hard to maintain focus amid competing interests. Impatience : Lacks the willingness to wait, often spoiling opportunities to learn. Perfunctory : Performs actions in a mechanical, uninspired manner. Self-Doubt : Consistently questions personal abilities and decisions. Arbitraryness : Makes decisions based on whim rather than reason or evidence. Rigidity : Is inflexible and unwilling to consider alternative viewpoints. Gullibility : Trusts too easily, often leading to being misled or deceived. Obsession : Becomes excessively fixated on particular ideas or details. Aloofness : Maintains emotional distance, appearing detached or indifferent. Intolerance : Refuses to accept differing perspectives or lifestyles.

Writing Advice for Brainstorming

Mix genres and time periods: Experiment by combining elements from different eras or genres to create unique settings and narratives.

Use "what if" scenarios: Pose unexpected questions (e.g., What if time travel operated on emotions rather than mechanics?) to spark novel ideas.

Draw from diverse mediums: Engage with art, music, or even scientific papers to inspire unexpected plot twists.

Embrace absurdity: Let illogical or surreal ideas guide you; sometimes the wildest thoughts lead to compelling stories.

Reverse clichés: Identify common tropes in your favorite genres and deliberately invert them to create fresh perspectives.

Incorporate personal anomalies: Transform your idiosyncrasies and personal struggles into rich, multi-dimensional characters.

Use mind-mapping: Visually plot your ideas in a freeform way to uncover hidden connections between disparate elements.

[reasonsforhope]

Workbooks to improve executive functioning

Since the post I made last night about improving executive functioning was so popular, I figured I should pull these out of my comments and give them their own post, in case it's helpful for people.

I have worked with the publishers of all of the books linked below and can vouch for their psychology books. The publisher of most of them, New Harbinger, is an extremely credible evidence-based psychology publisher.

Obvious disclaimer that everyone's brain is different and what works for someone else may not work for you.

Is there evidence that executive functioning can be improved? Yes. This book appears to be a very thorough overview of the field, and contains both advocates and detractors of cognitive training, for a balanced perspective. From the table of contents, I would really recommend jumping straight to Part 3: Developmental Perspectives for executive functioning (EF) writ large.

Certain therapy modalities are specifically designed for skill-building in areas like impulsivity, decision-making, emotional regulation, and cognitive flexibility, all of which are EF skills or very dependent on EF skills. Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) is probably the best field to look at for these - skill-building in those areas is its core goal.

Some DBT workbooks:

The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook: Practical DBT Exercises for Learning Mindfulness, Interpersonal Effectiveness, Emotion Regulation, and Distress Tolerance

The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook for Teens

There are also a lot of workbooks for ADHD that are sometimes more broad but also can help with executive functioning:

The Adult ADHD and Anxiety Workbook: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Skills to Manage Stress, Find Focus, and Reclaim Your Life

The CBT Workbook for Adult ADHD: Evidence-Based Exercises to Improve Your Focus, Productivity, and Wellbeing

The Neurodivergence Skills Workbook for Autism and ADHD

General executive functioning workbooks:

The Executive Functioning Workbook for Teens

Executive Functioning Workbook for Adults: Exercises to Help You Get Organized, Stay Focused, and Achieve Your Goals

Hope these are helpful to someone!!

[us-enviro-comments]

The Public Comment Process (+ how to write effective public comments)

The US federal rule-making process is founded around the right to comment: the public's opportunity to publicly address the agency responsible for a decision. This right is enshrined by the Administrative Procedure Act (APA) of 1946 and reinforced by the National Environmental Policy Act of 1970, which both require that citizens be able to take part in pre-decision communication with a federal agency.

Public comments are important for a number of reasons:

Agencies must consider all new information received during the comment period and address that new information before publishing the final rule; this includes revising the proposed rule.

A good comment can be the basis for a court challenge. If the agency does not adequately address the new information in the comment, they can then be sued and the rule placed on hold until the issues raised by the new information are resolved.

Advocacy groups and journalists often scour public comments to get ideas for their own comments and campaigns, and to contextualize proposed rules.

Submitting a public comment on proposed federal rules and regulations is not like commenting on social media, though. Substantive comments that require agency response are those that contain information pertinent to the actions proposed in the regulation, such as community impacts, scientific evidence, or other data. Non-substantive comments ("I don't like this!") don't require any response beyond maybe a "Comment noted."

Here's a brief set of tips from the Public Comment Project:

“The most valuable public comments are unique, fact-based, and succinct. The agency will have to sort through many identical form letters and expressions of personal opinion.  

Your comment can report on scientific evidence that opposes or supports the theory behind the regulation. Providing additional supporting evidence helps strengthen the agency's position by creating a stronger scientific foundation for their action.

Use an opening sentence to establish your credibility. State who you are and summarize any of your experiences that are relevant to the topic of the proposal.

You do not have to come to a conclusion or judgement regarding the entirety of the regulation, but you do have to clearly communicate the implications of the research you present. Avoid leaving it up to the agency to infer how research or data relates to the regulation. 

Check out the agency's mission statement and any statutes relevant to the regulation. Federal agencies' actions are driven by their mission and held to the standards dictated by statutes, so make your comment stronger by explaining how your information contributes to their mission.”

You can also find templates here: https://publiccommentproject.org/comment-templates

Sources:

The Public Comment Project https://publiccommentproject.org

Democracy in Practice: Public Participation in Environmental Decisions, Beierle and Cayford 2002

Union of Concerned Scientists https://www.ucs.org/resources/participating-federal-rulemaking

[wonder-worker]

"The feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist being appointed as the day upon which the coronation of the king [Edward V] would take place without fail, all both hoped for and expected a season of prosperity for the kingdom."

— Excerpt from the Croyland Continuator / David Horspool, Richard III: A Ruler and Reputation

Even though Edward IV’s death was unexpected, after twelve years of peace there need not have been too much of a sense of foreboding about the succession. The great dynastic wound from which the Wars of the Roses had grown had not so much been healed as cauterized by the extinction of the House of Lancaster. There was no rush for London, as had happened in earlier, disputed successions. The royal party didn’t set out from Ludlow for ten days after hearing the news of Edward IV’s death, while Richard took his time, too. And the new king had [his mother the dowager queen and] two uncles to support him: his mother’s brother, the sophisticated, cultured, highly experienced Earl Rivers; and his father’s, the loyal and reliable Duke of Gloucester, to whom Edward IV had entrusted unprecedented power and vital military command.

... [Richard of Gloucester] had achieved his goal by a mixture of luck and ruthlessness, and if he made it appear, or even believed himself, that destiny played a part, this only made him a man in step with his times. Modern historians have no time for destiny, but sometimes the more ‘structuralist’ interpretations of the events surrounding the usurpation can come close to it. When we read that ‘the chances of preserving an unchallenged succession were . . . weakened by the estrangement of many of the rank-and-file nobility from . . . high politics, which was partly a consequence of the Wars of the Roses and partly of Edward IV’s own policies’, it is hard not to conclude that an unforeseeable turn of events is being recast as a predictable one. But without one overriding factor – the actions of Richard, Duke of Gloucester after he took the decision to make himself King Richard III – none of this could have happened. That is, when the same author concedes ‘Nor can we discount Richard’s own forceful character’, he is pitching it rather low*.

Edward IV had not left behind a factional fault line waiting to be shaken apart. Richard of Gloucester’s decision to usurp was a political earthquake that could not have been forecast on 9 April, when Edward died. After all, Simon Stallworth did not even anticipate it on 21 June, the day before Richard went public. We should be wary of allowing hindsight to give us more clairvoyance than the well-informed contemporary who had no idea ‘what schall happyne’. This is not to argue that Richard’s will alone allowed him to take the Crown. Clearly, the circumstances of a minority, the existence of powerful magnates with access to private forces, and the reasonably recent examples of resorts to violence and deposition of kings, made Richard’s path a more conceivable one. But Richard’s own tactics, his arrest of Rivers, Vaughan and Grey, the rounding up of Hastings and the bishops, relied on surprise. If men as close as these to the workings of high politics at a delicate juncture had no inkling of what might happen, the least historians can do is to reflect that uncertainty [...].

(*The author who Horspool is referencing and disagreeing with is Charles Ross)

[illyrianbitch]

An Evening Reunion

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission. You talk to him about your day, but he’s far more interested in you—and your silk nightgown.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship fluff, lil domestic moments, az coming home from a mission, reader serving cunt in a nightgown, suggestive sexual content, basically dry humping, boners, and allusions to sex

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

based on this ask!! youve done the lords work!!

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The evening was still and quiet, a content feeling lingering in the air as if the world had enjoyed its day and was happily ready to yield to the night.

It had, indeed, been a good day, a really good day. You had no complaints— except one. You missed your mate. Azriel had been so busy recently, chasing fading whispers and potential leads. He was running himself ragged, returning every night exhausted and sore. What would make today perfect for you was something you were sure would make Azriel’s day end properly— a nice, warm embrace.

Faintly, your ears picked up the sound of the door opening, a small creaking that you’d grown to love. Your heart leapt as you pushed yourself out of bed, the floor cold against your bare feet as you made your way out of the bedroom and through the hallway.

A window was open in the living room, a decision you had made earlier to welcome the beautiful weather. You had forgotten about the decision until now, until the cool breeze met your body and you shivered, nipples hardening under the thin material of your silk nightgown.

A familiar scent of night-chilled leather and something uniquely him filled the room, carried by the gentle night breeze. You took in a deep breath, letting the air and the smell of your mate fill your senses. A smile began to gnaw at your lips as you rounded the corner, eyes landing on Azriel’s form.

His wings were folded tightly against his back as he shrugged off his jacket, shadows swirling and flickering around his form like restless children. You knew that they got tired on these long missions sometimes, too. Your heart ached at the sight of two beings you loved so dearly being so evidently exhausted.

Sensing your presence, Azriel’s eyes immediately found yours, and the weariness in his face softened into a look of pure affection. His movements stilled, shadows seemingly calming, then, as if sensing his relief. Within seconds, they surged towards you, encircling you in a cool, loving embrace. You laughed softly, the sensation tickling your skin.

You smiled at your mate. “Welcome home.”

His gaze softened even further, a deep warmth kindling within your chest as he tugged on your bond— that divine, beautiful bond.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured, crossing the room in a few long strides. He brought you into a quick, tight embrace, a hand placed on the back of your head as he pressed a faint kiss to your forehead.

When he broke apart with a sigh, you reached up to run a comforting hand over his arm. “Rough day?”

He shrugged, but his shoulders relaxed under your touch. “Better now.”

You gave him a sympathetic glance, brows furrowing at the tension etched into his features. You took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Azriel only nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as he followed you down into the hallway, closing the bedroom door with his heel as you pulled him inside.

Piece by piece, you helped him remove his leathers, fingers softly undoing the buckles and straps. You let out a small laugh at the motions, memories of the start of your relationship bubbling to the brink of your mind— a time where you’d struggle to remove these same buckles and straps, when you’d get so frustrated and curse both your mate and his clothing. Not that you knew he was your mate at that point, but something inside you had convinced you that he was worthy enough of the patience it took to navigate the countless aspects of his fighting leathers.

“What is it?” Azriel asked softly, “What's so funny?”

You shook your head, drawing your lips in between your teeth. “Just remembering a time when I couldn’t remove these damned things.”

Azriel let out a laugh then, too. “And now look, you’re an expert.”

You looked up to meet his eyes. “I know. Call me the mate of the century.”

He let out another small chuckle, a dimpled smile forming on his face. A wave of silence fell upon you as each piece of clothing fell to the floor with a soft clunk, a sound made from both the metal clasps and the hidden assortment of weapons inside. Picking it all up was a problem for tomorrow. You made a mental note of it and stored it away in your mind.

Azriel let out a sigh of relief as the final pieces of his armor fell away. He peeled off the rest of his clothing, leaving him in just his underwear as he took a step closer to you. You tried not to stare at the beautiful form before you, at the ripple of his muscles. Gods, it was a sight you’d never tire of.

“Come here,” he said, gently pulling you onto the bed with him. He laid back against the pillows, his wings spreading slightly to accommodate your weight as you settled yourself atop him, straddling his hips. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the silk of your nightgown, a cool trail of shadows following and exaggerating his every move.

“Tell me about your day.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “Nesta and I walked around town for a bit. We found this little bookstore she loved. And then I baked with Elain. We made those dark chocolate cupcakes you like.”

He hummed appreciatively, hands rubbing gentle circles on your hips. “Sounds nice.”

You started to roll your hips, slowly, almost absentmindedly— a movement that you’d grown used to from other times spent in this same position. “It was. Elain sent some home for you.”

Azriel’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his attention divided between your words and the steady, tantalizing motion of your body against his. “I can’t wait to try them.”

His fingers traced up your sides, one hand gently pushing your hair away from your neck to expose the sensitive skin to him. You shuddered at his touch, at the light brush of his fingertips. His hands were still cold from outside, and the tendrils of smoke, of shadow, that wrapped around his wrist made the feeling even stronger.

“And then we… oh,” you whispered, breath hitching as his nose brushed against your neck, face nuzzling into the crook of it. You felt the heat of his breath against your skin as he traced a path up your throat, a warm ripple of excitement running down your spine.

You tried to stay focused, asking him a question about his day and his input for tomorrow's plans. Cassian’s birthday was next week, and you and Az still had to decide on what you wanted to give him. The plan, supposedly, was to go out tomorrow and finalize your gifts. But your mate's attention seemed elsewhere. You let out a small laugh. “Az, are you even listening?”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, gaze dark with desire, pupils now blown out. “Baby,” he said, “How can I when you look so good, and smell fucking divine.”

You let out a breath as a blush crept up your cheeks, the warmth radiating throughout your body. His hands tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, his arousal now evident beneath you, large and wanting. “No, no,” he murmured, his voice husky with need, “Keep talking.”

“Alright,” you responded quietly, but your heart was no longer in the conversation. Instead, you focused on his hardening length beneath you, at the movement of your hips and the growing heat in your stomach. Azriel’s breathing grew more labored beneath you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. “And then we—”

You faltered as Azriel began to roll his hips, a whine leaving your lips as his hands slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He pulled you into a searing kiss, mouth slotting over yours naturally— needy and eager.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, hands tightening around you as he urged you to continue moving against him— a request you gave into immediately, a pool of desire beginning to wet both your nightwear and his. He deepened the kiss, tongue brushing against yours, and there was a certain tremor in his muscles— a barely restrained hunger as he started to thrust up.

His hand tightened around your waist, the other sliding down to grab your ass, guiding you with a firm, insistent touch. His shadows coiled around your thighs as you parted from him, heavily breathing against his lips, “I'm getting the feeling that you’ve missed me.”

Azriel’s laugh was deep and rich, the sound vibrating through his chest as his lips remained pressed to yours. “Unbelievably so,” he muttered, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss, pulling you even closer.

You let out a sound of protest as he pulled away again, but it quickly turned into one of pleasure as his mouth trailed down to your collarbone, pressing heated kisses along your shoulder. The strap of your nightgown slipped down, baring more of your skin to his eager mouth.

"S'pretty," Az purred against your skin, fingers delicately tugging the strap down further. "I like this."

“Yeah?” Threading your fingers through his hair, you tugged lightly at his scalp, drawing his attention back to you. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you and you throbbed as he ran his tongue over his lips. “Show me how much.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

whoever sent that ask....i love u and u got me writing faster than any deadline <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin

[compliancespecialist]

Navigating Post Implementation of the Consumer Duty

[leyavo]

| Alary | 1

John Price had been watching you from afar for five years now. He’d seen the way you’d bit your tongue whilst a male superior chewed you out for making a life or death decision. One that saved their asses.

Your captain’s knuckles hitting your shoulder three times to punctuate his the last three words, “what are you?”

“A stain on your reputation, Captain,” you ground out, hands fisted behind your back as if you’d been made to say it regularly whenever you did something to displease him.

“We’re a team sergeant, everything you do reflects on all of us.”

John too busy trying to stay awake whilst the gash on his forehead was stitched up to say anything. He doesn’t forget that day, like a weird fever dream he wonders what you could be if you were given the opportunity to grow. If someone gave you a chance.

What he couldn’t wrap his head around though, was a sergeant on a third performance plan that was still in the same task force. John had seen many dumped on other, smaller units after the first. But you, you were taking whatever they threw at you, simply for being a woman.

It’s no surprise, John knows how most women are treated by their male counterparts in the military. Seen the reports swept away under not enough evidence or much worse, death.

John read through your profile, a long list of reprimanded jargon to keep you in the role of a sergeant whilst others were promoted to lieutenant.

He started to observe you more on the base, gaze wandering to you as your captain yelled in your face. Additional laps for your elbow clipping another sergeant. You ran those ten laps in record timing, he timed it he should know.

Noticed how your team remained silent or sniggered as your superiors made sexist jokes or called you uptight. “Relax sergeant it’s only a joke.” A playful shove to the back of your head.

How you stared at your scuffed boots when your lieutenant got a bit too personal during an active operation, but you ignored him.

It’s not till a merged mission with your task force does John realise the extent of your team’s mistreatment of you. The way you shred your weapons and tactical vest to squeeze through a small opening so you can let them in.

And that’s how you got your call-sign, Bug because you could crawl through small spaces.

Unarmed, alone in hostile territory, but you were more than capable at hand to hand combat and stealth. Soap finding you in the surveillance tower, blood trailing your nose and a stolen machine gun in your grasp.

Nothing, but your tactical vest and gun shoved back into your arms when you meet back up with your team at the end of the successful mission.

“Great work, sergeant,” John says as you walk past him, gloved hand reaching to shake yours.

You stare at it like it’s a loaded gun, but you nod your head and firmly shake his hand. “You too, Captain.”

The murmurs of your task force behind you, “Hurry up, Bug! Or ya walking back.” Chorus of laughter making you retreat from John as if he’d burnt you.

So when John finally gets the funding to add another contractor to the 141, you’re the first one on his mind. Your skillset would be a great asset to his team and he can’t ignore the grit and determination to stick it out with your current lot. Even when you’re mistreated.

And now here you were, standing in front of John’s desk on your first day with the 141. Your hands tucked behind your back, gaze levelled with his as if waiting for a reason to hate him. He doesn’t blame you.

The first women on their task force, that’s what they’re all gossiping about. How you must have slept your way up to the top, there’s no way you’ll be able to keep up with them. Even some betting on your downfall, which Soap and Gaz threatened them to take down.

You warm up to Gaz and Soap quickly, but there’s something holding you back from your interactions with John and Ghost. No teasing or initiating talk outside of your work. Never calling them by their names, just captain and lieutenant.

“Why don’t you tell him to fuck off Bug?” Ghost says, between a mouthful of his food. You hated coming to the canteen at lunch, the busiest period but the guys had dragged you along. “What’s the point,” you shrugged, “they’ll say I’m too sensitive and shouldn’t be in the army if I say shit.”

And that’s when Ghost makes it his mission to get you to fight back. Doesn’t want his team mate to take any shit, from himself or others. Doesn’t matter how thick your skin is.

It takes more than year for you to bite back. Ghost constantly pushing and pushing with his words in hope you’ll finally stick up for yourself. “Pathetic, sergeant try again.” “What is this flirting? Take him down Sergeant!” You’re circling the training mat, Soap and Gaz against you. Ghost’s words getting to you more than you liked to admit. The twitch of your neck, the roll of your shoulders revealing your annoyance. Making it so much easier for Ghost. “Stop dancing around him, Bug!”

Gaz is cringing off the mat, eyes darting between Ghost and you, if looks could kill….your mid sip when the lieutenant speaks again. “Maybe if you loosened up…” Your water bottle hurtling at him, but he catches it easily. “Much better, Bug. Now tell me to fuck off.” Brown eyes glistening beneath his mask. “Oh fuck off you wanker.” His call-sign might as well be wanker now, when you’re not on an active op.

It takes Gaz hours to calm you down, explaining how he’s trying to push you to stick up for yourself.

There’s still some days that catch you off guard though. A little splinter of a reminder that’s deeply ingrained into your being. Where three simple words knock you down a peg or two, promise you a punishment for showing off.

“What are you?” Soap asks, wondering how you figured out a loophole in a software that allowed them to obtain crucial intel.

It’s an innocent question.

John’s quick to notice the frozen response, your head dipping as not to catch Soap’s gaze. “An asset, good work Bug.”

Part two kinda

✨ Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed it :) there might be some errors/mistakes as I'm dyslexic, I do check my work a couple times, but I do miss bits and pieces - Leya

[the-lazy-cat-bakes-souffles]

The scene where Jackie hauls Shauna away from Van inside the burning plane wreckage is one of the most under-discussed relative to its impact, and gives us so much insight into the characters and wider themes of Yellowjackets.

In some respects, it was the first act of violence in the wilderness. Now, by violence I don’t mean something done with the intent to harm. Jackie was placed in an extremely stressful adrenaline-fuelled situation where she had to make a choice with seconds to spare. Practically speaking, it was also a logical choice: the fire was rapidly encroaching and there was every chance that freeing Van in time was impossible, so Shauna would be fruitlessly throwing her life away. After all, the rear of the plane does explode soon after they get out.

But that doesn’t change the fact that it was callous and violent in its impact. It was Jackie, in that moment of intense danger, choosing to leave Van to burn alive - and actively prevent her from receiving help - because there was a chance that she might lose Shauna too. “For the record, I was trying to save you.” True character is revealed under pressure, and this scene is the show’s way of signalling to the audience what Jackie values most, the thing that will cause her to abandon all other principles: Shauna.

This is enforced by her later saving Van from the plane propellor: it’s an act of atonement, but also a way to convey the hierarchy of Jackie’s priorities. She loves her teammates and would trade her life for theirs without hesitation, but she would trade any of their lives for Shauna’s if it came to it (it also speaks to how little Jackie values her own life and is further evidence of her suicidal ideation).

One of the things that strikes me most about the scene is how similar it is to when Javi drowns in the second season. In both cases, Van and Javi are in severe environmental peril and desperately cry out for help. Shauna and Nat respectively attempt to save them at great personal risk, but they’re pulled away by Jackie and Misty, who have determined that it’s better to sacrifice one if it means saving the other.

While the contexts are different, the theme is the same: “It chooses.” And ‘It’ is all of them. ‘It’ is all of us. When driven to the brink and placed in the most dire of extremes, any person, no matter how virtuous, can behave in base ways. It’s always baffled me that Jackie is often framed as an exception to this by the fandom when we’re presented with such a clear example through her character on day one, long before anyone had descended into savagery. I’ve no doubt that if she’d survived and mended her relationship with Shauna she would have gone to great lengths to keep her (and the baby) alive, even if it meant compromising her strongly held morals.

In spite of everything, Van did escape the wreckage, which means that she could have been saved. And she was left with deep trauma that lingers into the third season. However much we might be able to justify Jackie’s decision, it still came at Van’s expense. This isn’t to say that I think Jackie is deep down a cruel or violent person; she’s patently not, quite the opposite. But it’s compelling to explore what moves someone to act in ways counter to their nature, their moral pressure points, and how they account for their actions. It does a disservice to Jackie to downplay her complexities and flaws, just as it does a disservice to Shauna to regard her as an inherently sadistic person when her first instinct was to risk her life to help.

Then there’s how the scene informs Van’s character. Van is an optimist who is moulded by hardship into a pragmatist, and these two forces are constantly battling within her. Being left on the plane establishes this conflict: from her perspective, her life was easily discarded by someone she trusted. Van is confronted with the harshest of truths: that her survival is not guaranteed, nor is the support of her peers. It’s something hard fought for, and something she must fight for herself.

Her relationship with Tai mirrors the codependent bond of Jackie and Shauna. Their devotion to each other leads them to sentence Ben to death despite both holding doubts over his guilt. They rig the cards to protect each other from being chosen for the hunt, in doing so condemning someone else. Van comes to understand something of what drove Jackie to do what she did, because above all else, she cannot lose the person she holds most dear.

Once any real chance of rescue is out the window, Van fully internalises this survivalist mindset. She holds onto faith and narrativises their situation to imbue it all with some sort of meaning. But it’s ultimately a coping mechanism, a way to deal with the horror she knows they can’t escape. This is why the moment a glimmer of hope reappears in the form of the scientists, she sheds it. She doesn’t truly want it, she never did. Her final act is a culmination of that; she can’t find it in herself to kill for her own gain. ‘It’ chooses, and Van chose. As did Melissa.

What are we willing to do to survive? To protect ourselves and those we love? What are we willing to lose? How much of ourselves can we give up before the cost becomes too great? These are some of the thematic questions Yellowjackets poses, and this short scene is a fascinating microcosm of that.

[peakyrain]

"proving" shifting through scientific evidence (& philosophic theory)

this post is heavily inspired by @voldyateme on tiktok. i saw her video and decided to do research on my own, and write a detailed post about this topic to make myself understand better. i also would like to mention that some of the claims irene made in her tiktok were wrong (and biased) i also wanted to clear some things up for myself.

fyi: long post ahead. this took me three days to understand and write. i might still be a bit unclear on my understanding of some aspects, but to avoid having to write a whole novel on the subject, i simplified my findings and shortened them by a lot.

-

john clauser is a physicist who won the nobel peace prize in 2022 for his work on quantum entanglement. his theory confirms that quantum particles can be entangled across vast distances, and that their behaviors are instantly connected, even if they're light years apart.

a very simplified example:

i: you create two entangled particles

ii: you send particle A to tokyo, and particle B to paris

iii: a person in tokyo measures particle A and sees it spinning up, then instantly, meaning instantly, faster than light, the person in paris will know particle B is spinning down

this is simply based on particle A or B's observation, w/o there having to be sent any message or signal between them. they behave as if they're one system - not two separate ones.

the moment you measure one particle, you're instantly aware of the other particle's state.

⭒ relating quantum entanglement to shifting:

okay so now we know that entangled particles act as of they're one system, even through long distances. so, if everything was once connected to the big bang, then on some level, everything may still be entangled. meaning you, your consciousness and other "versions" of yourself in other realities.

this could therefore suggest that we are already connected to all possible versions of ourselves. they exist within a quantum field of potential, and our awareness can shift between these versions by tuning into the version we desire - essentially by choosing a different frequency.

say you're listening to the radio. you know that you’re able to listen to any radio broadcast because there are thousands playing at the same exact time, but you choose which one to listen to, knowing you have the choice to change it to another.

it's the same exact with shifting. you know that there are endless versions of you in existence right this moment - you only have to choose to become aware of your desired self.

-

john wheeler, another physicist, proposed that reality is directly linked to our consciousness and what we observe. it's been demonstrated that particles don't move until they're actually observed. so if we're not observing something, it doesn't have a definite state at all. this is called the "observer effect"

the effect has challenged and in some ways helped disprove einstein's theory of realism. einstein believed that that the physical world exists independently of whether we observe it or not.

example: according to einstein, if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to observe it, the tree still falls. this is shown to be false on a quantum level. that said, we can't w/ certainty say that the tree does (or doesn’t) exist if no one is perceiving it (confusing, trust me, i know)

wheeler also proved that particles will change their makeup based on our choices and observation. simplified, this means that reality doesn't fully decide its state until it's observed. it can have different outcomes, and our choices affect the past behavior of particles.

⭒ relating the observer effect to shifting:

we know that quantum particles don't take on a definite form or "reality" until they're observed. this implies that our observation plays a direct role in shaping reality - not just by watching, but also deciding. this implies that reality isn't fixed, but fluid, shaped by our decisions, thoughts and observations and means we can "choose" our reality.

quantum physics shows that reality isn't fixed until observed, observation and consciousness do play a key role and that multiple outcomes are possible. so our consciousness focus can be said to be the mechanism that "shifts" us into a desired timeline or reality.

-

way before quantum physics existed, george berkley, a philosopher in the 1700s argued the idea "to be is to be perceived", which is eerily similar to what scientists are exploring today.

he believed that physical objects don't exist independently of our own perception. so if no one is for example perceiving a tree, then it doesn't exist.

berkeley said that there is no such thing as matter existing on its own w/o a mind to perceive it. BUT! there's a twist. you see, berkley also argued the existence of God being necessary to explain how the world works within his theory of perception and idealism.

okay so, to simplify because it can be really confusing:

i: physical things only exist if they're being perceived.

ii: when humans aren't perceiving things, God is.

iii: the reason why the world keeps existing even when we're not looking is because God is always "watching".

this raises the question: if we're not perceiving something, and the only reason it exists because God is, then how do we know it actually exists when we're not perceiving it?

berkeley responded:

"we know it exists because we can come back and perceive it again, and it behaves consistently"

if you look at a tree, walk away, come back. it's still there. berkeley argued that you assume the tree existed the whole time because when you go back, the tree would still be there, at the exact same spot.

this consistency would therefore be explained by God's continuous perception of it. so even though you didn't perceive it the whole time, the fact that reality is orderly and consistent is reliable "proof" that something (God) kept it there.

critics have argued back that assuming God is perceiving all the time isn't proof that He actually is, so how would we know that?

the answer is: w/o God, things would just pop in and out of existence every time we blink and that doesn't happen. so God is used to explain why the world is consistent and stable even when we're not watching.

you can't personally perceive something that you're not perceiving, but you trust that it's still there when you go back there, because of God.

berkeley's theory is still relevant today because the things he imagined in the 1700s do line up w/ scientific discoveries today and i resonate w/ his theory, so i just had to include it even though God’s existence isn’t proven. it’s fascinating, really.

⭒ relating george’s idealism to reality shifting:

if, like berkeley said, things only exist when they're being perceived, and if reality stays consistent because someone is always perceiving it, then that means perception isn't just passive, it's creative and shapes what exists.

this ties back to shifting beacuse it suggests that your desired reality doesn't need to "appear" in front of you for it to be real - it only needs to be perceived. if you consciously focus on your dr, perceiving it in your mind as real, then by berkeley's logic, it is real, maybe not in the physical sense just yet, but within the field of awareness that gives rise to reality in the first place.

so basically: if reality is perception based, and you're perceiving your dr, then you're giving form to something that exists because you're actively perceiving it, and you are capable of being in that place.

[himbodruid]

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals 😘

Midnight Warmth

What happens when Sylus brings you to one of his remote countryside homes for a long weekend?

An expansion on the Midnight Warmth Secret Times

Sylus x Reader

Soft Sylus -:- he loses control -:- you get no sleep

Intended for readers 18+. MINORS DNI

Fic Master List

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The week had been a long and hard one, full of ups and downs. Disappointment was high near the end when your team had failed to gather intel on illegal protocore operations, the lead having been bogus from the start.

You were just glad for four glorious days off of work, days you would get to spend with Sylus. The moment he learned you had a long weekend, he planned to whisk you away to one of the ranch houses he owned out in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by nothing but fields and forests, you were excited to watch the frosty April sunrises with the horses grazing in the fields.

The moment you arrived at the house, though, exhaustion pulled at your bones. The drive had been longer than you expected, and the fact you had to navigate the winding country roads on your own didn’t help. Sylus told you he wouldn’t be there until later in the night, to make yourself comfortable and choose whichever room you wanted. He’d planned on making the drive with you, but something came up last minute that needed to be taken care of.

You hauled your bags in and plopped them right onto the floor of the first room you found. The decor was quite similar to Sylus’s base, but you didn’t really have time to take it in before you were sprawled across the bed and nodding off.

You awoke sometime later, then the sun had set, to Sylus gently brushing hair out of your face with the back of his knuckles. You smiled and stretched, allowing him to pull you up and into a hug. His riding leathers were still cool from the evening breeze, and you rubbed your face on the buttery leather surface

“Sorry I’m late, love,” he said. You didn’t even know how long you’d been asleep, but you were glad to be wrapped in his warm embrace all the same.

“It’s okay, you’re here now,” you say, sleep still evident in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

His lips met the crown of your hair before he released you. He walked over and gathered your luggage, teasing you about how much you’d brought for a simple four day getaway. You defended yourself by claiming you had to be prepared for everything.

“Well, are you prepared to share a room with me, or did you mean to take this one?”

You could feel your face flush and you took a closer look at the room. A wall lined with everything music should have been your first clue, or even the beautiful console record player that was set up on an adjacent wall. That explained why the bedding held a faint hint of Sylus’s spicy scent and why you were lulled to sleep so quickly.

“Honestly, I just crashed in the first room I found. I can take a different room, it’s not a problem!”

You made to move towards your bags, but you were blocked by Sylus holding them away from you. Looking up at him, you quirked a brow in confusion. You made a grab at them again, only for him to take a step back.

“Oh, no, love. You chose this room and now it’s yours. It’s also your decision on if you want me to stay or if you want me elsewhere.”

This playfully mischievous side of Sylus had become more prominent the last couple of months, but his words still made you pause. At the base, you had your own rooms just a few doors down from Sylus, and any other dwelling he owned it was the same story. You’d snuck into his rooms more times than you could count, but…

“Could you…stay?” You asked timidly. You’d never fully shared a single space with him, and the bed was large enough to fit a horse between the two of you if really necessary. Sylus smiled that crooked half-smirk of his and gathered up your things once again. You plopped onto the bench at the foot of the bed, watching as he swiftly unpacked your luggage and put them away in the closet and dresser. It was such a domestic task that all you could do was watch dumbly as the universe’s most wanted criminal just…neatly folded or hung your clothes. Existential was too mild of a word for what you were feeling right then.

When he was done, he removed his jacket and also made sure to hang that in the large closet by the door. You didn’t realize you’d let your eyes trail down his broad back to his leather-clad ass until he turned around and chuckled. Your face flamed, and you quickly looked away.

“Come, Kitten, the cook should have something prepared for us by now.”

You were grateful that he didn’t tease you for getting caught staring. You couldn’t help it, though. His clothes were tailored to fit his athletic frame to perfection, almost like they were just painted on. The black shirt he wore was stretched taut across his shoulders and clung to him straight down to his narrow waist and hips. And those damnable leather pants that looked like they barely contained him with the zippered panels on each side of his- you shook yourself, forcing your eyes away from his ass again. His chuckle let you know that he was very well aware you were checking him out, but he chose not to comment.

Something must be wrong with you. Sure, he was an attractive man, but you’d never been so caught up in him to openly stare at him like that before. You were usually much more reserved, so you decided to blame it on the atmosphere and the idea of being relatively alone with him for the whole weekend. Or maybe you were just touch-starved and horny, not that you would ever admit to it.

Dinner held a vast array of food you loved, and you were suspicious that he called ahead to make sure everything was prepared to your exact liking. You chose not to press the matter, instead dancing happily at each delicious bite.

Dinner ended with Sylus teasing you about how you managed to stay so small while eating so much. You flexed your meager biceps at him, spouting some nonsense about being a hunter keeping you fit. It wasn’t fully a lie, but a lot of the job was desk work along with field work.

After dinner, Sylus took you on a quick tour of the main house, explaining that the property was actually a housing complex of people he employed to keep it running. A large barn also rested on the property, housing the finest horseflesh Sylus could find. His prized stallion, an Akhal-Teke, also resided there. You listened to his gravelly voice with rapt attention, adding things to your mental list of all the things you wanted to do.

Even through the excitement, you found yourself dozing off when you sat to watch a movie with Sylus in front of a crackling fire. He lounged on the chaise section of the sofa and your head rested in his lap. He bundled you in the soft throw blanket that lay across the back of the sofa. His large hand rested on your shoulder, letting his fingers play in your hair, and the feeling of safety was so immense that you had no qualms about napping.

The movie reached some sort of crescendo that startled you awake. You stretched, playing it off as though it hadn’t scared you. Turning your gaze upward, you saw Sylus watching you instead of the film. He sat with his arm resting on the sofa arm, cheek palmed, and a painfully tender expression on his face while he played with your hair.

“What?” He said with a smile, swirling a strand of your hair around a finger on his free hand. “You’re still awake?”

“Whaddya mean ‘still’? I was asleep but now it’s too loud,” you grumbled.

“You’re the one who asked me to put on a movie to help you fall asleep. And now you’re complaining it’s too loud?” He said with a chuckle, gently tugging that strand of hair. “You’re fussy, Kitten.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and sat up, snuggling closer to him until the both of you were stretched on the chaise. His arm came around your shoulder and you rested your head against his chest. You listened to the steady thrum of his heart, an unnamed emotion swelling in your chest. You were really here, with him.

“Do you really like this place?” He murmured against your hair as he placed a gentle kiss there.

“Mhm, I’m so excited that I can’t sleep.” He chuckled at your statement, seeing as you had napped twice since arriving.

“You're spoiled rotten, that's for sure.”

“Only because you spoil me,” you say, scrunching your nose. You fall into companionable silence, still having no clue what was happening in the movie. It appeared to be some sort of vampire romance flick, but you couldn’t focus with the way his fingers drifted across your skin.

“Stay here a few more days,” he murmured, suddenly. “Extend your vacation. After all, it’s just you and me.”

You thought about it some, on the verge of agreeing. After all, you never took time off, and you had a hefty cache of vacation hours built up. You would have to call Captain Jenna and request more time, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

“We’ll see. But I already know what I wanna do tomorrow!”

“Tell me,” he said softly.

“You’re really gonna trust me with the planning?”

He chuckled, “I'll see what you’re planning first, and then decide whether I'll come.”

You shifted, turning so that you could face him a little more fully. The action put you in a position that may as well have you laying on him, and you could feel a blush slowly creep across your face. Sylus seemed unphased, though, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

“How about…picking strawberries?” You threw out the idea without much thought to the frost that still greeted the mornings.

“Sure, why not,” he said with a smile. “There’s a farm nearby.”

“You’ll have to teach me horseback riding, of course.” You were conscious of his face getting closer to yours, his hands chastely exploring you.

“Okay. We have a racetrack in the back,” he said. Something in his voice made you want to shiver. His tone dropped and his usual rasp was more noticeable. “What else?”

You mindlessly rattled off other things you wanted to do. You’d made a whole list before even leaving for the country, and admittedly it was…a lot.

Sylus chuckled and mirrored your thoughts. “That’s a lot.”

“I just…want to spend time with you. As much as I can.”

“Your words are coated in honey,” he rumbled. “But if you’re tired and complain halfway through…”

He rolled you halfway underneath him, so that you were now laid down on the chaise and he laid on his side beside you, propped up on an elbow with his head resting in his palm. He leaned in, caressing your cheek. “I wont accept that.”

You knew your face was flaming. You couldn’t help skirting your gaze from his eyes to those perfect cupid’s bow lips that hovered entirely too close. Huffing out a heated breath, you dragged the blanket over your head in embarrassment.

“Don’t hide under the blanket, Kitten.” He tugged at the blanket, and you let him pull it away from your face. “I remember everything you said.”

“I’m not hiding,” you said. Your voice was too bright and awkward, making the lie obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I’m going to sleep.”

“But your eyes are still open.” He flashed that devilish half-smirk that you loved. “Can you fall asleep while looking at my face?”

“Hmm. Maybe if you sleep with me.” The words escaped you before you could think about their meaning, and you were glad he seemingly chose to ignore it.

“Did you forget what time it is, hm? For me, the day has just begun.” He heaved a sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Since you can’t fall asleep, I'll tell you a story.”

“A story?” You raised a brow and smiled. You rolled to lay on your side, giving him your full undivided attention. The crackling of the fire added to the ambiance of your shared intimacy, and you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

“It took place in this…old castle. Tuck yourself in, close your eyes,” he began. You pulled the blanket up and draped it over the both of you, and then you obediently closed your eyes. The lilting rumble of his voice would be enough to lull you to sleep any other time, but the air crackling between you felt too charged.

“Once upon a time, this castle was shrouded in a heavy fog. Every year, there would be a day when the fog disappeared. Only then can one truly see the castle.”

“Hmm, and how did you hear of this castle?” You opened your eyes, needing to see him as he told the story.

“An old man who used to live nearby told me about it,” he chuckled.

“Is this a true story?”

He quirked a brow at your absurdity, gifting you with another warm smile. “How am I supposed to know if the story’s real or make-believe?

“Anyway, a girl found herself lost in the woods. She was lucky to stumble upon the castle when the fog was gone. She knocked on the door.”

“And did a prince answer the door?” You could feel yourself getting lost in him and needed to ground yourself.

“I’m afraid not. Sorry,” he said. “The castle was empty, so the girl decided to live there. Then, one day, as she was getting ready to sleep, the fireplace suddenly roared to life.”

His sentence was punctuated by a shift in the fireplace and a series of crackling sparks being released. The sudden sound startled you and you gripped his hand.

“Why are you holding my hand so tightly,” he chuckled. “Relax. It’s not scary.”

You moved closer to him anyway and he chuckled.

“How is this not an excuse to cuddle me,” he teased.

“So what if it is,” you grumble in reply. “Just continue the story.”

“The girl took a deep breath, turned around and saw- Yes, the window was open.”

You scrunched up your nose at the unexpected turn. He grinned and played with your hair while watching the expressions play on your fact with rapt interest.

“You seem to be disappointed. I told you it wasn’t scary, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, maybe she’d see a vampire. Perfect for an old creepy castle surrounded by fog.” He was leaning into you and you were acutely aware of the heat his body radiated. You swallowed but found your throat dry.

“Hm, I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, bringing a strand of your hair to his nose. “The movie we were watching did the same thing. The girl had walked into a vampire’s castle. Hmmh, come to think of it…the vampire’s castle and this castle look similar.”

He pulled away slightly, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“You kinda look like a vampire,” you say with a mischievous smile.

“How so?” His hands roamed over you again, and it took effort to concentrate on his question.

“Well, you have pale skin and red eyes. And you seem to be…very active at night,” you murmur as you allow your hand to flatten against his neck. He moved his chin up a little, letting you explore him.

“I do sound like one when you put it that way. What else?”

You poked his cheek. “You also like to bully people.”

“Bully people? How does a vampire bully someone, exactly?” He leaned over you again, imposing and crowding your space. His lips hovered so close to yours in a silent threat, only proving your point.

“Like this?” He asked. His lips descended, and you leaned up to receive him, but his face diverted at the last second. Instead, he buried his face against your neck.

“Let me…sniff your neck.”

You let your head fall back and your hand that rested on his neck slid to the back of his head. Your gasp rose to mingle with the sounds of the fire.

“Mmmh,” he moaned. “Your scent…I want it.”

He pushed you back into the chaise, rolling on top of you. You became aware of every inch of him that touched you. His knee wedged between your thighs, and it took far more effort than you cared to admit to not rub yourself on him. Your arms wrapped around broad shoulders and your hands met at the back of his head to touch his feather soft silvery strands.

“I’ll just…nibble this,” he murmured against your neck before his tongue found your pulse. Teeth scraped against your skin and you couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped. You tilted your chin to give him better access. But then he pulled away.

“Is that it?” He asked, lowering his lips to capture yours for a moment. His thigh pressed more firmly into the apex of yours, and you couldn’t help but to suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he growled. “Look me in the eye, answer me.”

You couldn’t answer him, you were far too focused on keeping your body still instead of squirming against him. His eyes left yours, searching out where he’d bitten you, looking to see if a mark rose there. A self-satisfied grin on his face told you there was one.

“Was I too rough? Is this what they call bullying?”

“You did it on purpose,” you complained half-heartedly.

“You’re the one who said I looked like a vampire,” he chuckled. “And in the movie, the girl got marked right…here.”

His finger brushed against the opposite side of your neck, tapping your thundering pulse with those damnably elegant fingers of his. Your breaths came in short bursts, his simple touches igniting your body. You thought you could feel his body reacting to yours, the length of him stiffening against your hip as he teased you.

“I want to leave a mark, too,” he murmured against your neck. And then he latched on, his mouth working at your skin in a way you knew would leave a hickey that would be visible for weeks. Your fingers tangled in his hair, the sensations of him sucking on your neck sending tremors through you. He pulled back and observed the purpling mark.

“Mmh. It’s still not enough,” he growled. He dipped his head again, using that hot mouth to create more marks on your neck and collarbone with satisfied growls. Your gasps and moans rose to mingle with his sounds. His hands roamed your torso, sneakily lifting your shirt until your breasts were bared to him.

“Why did you close your eyes? You’re finally going to bed?” He kissed the top swell of your breasts. “You don’t want to listen to my story anymore?”

Words wouldn’t come to you as he tugged down your bra so that he could swirl his tongue around your nipple.

“But, Kitten. I haven’t even gotten to the ending. The girl and the vampire were snuggled against each other.” He moved to tease your other breast. “It was a tranquil, midwinter day. Sitting in front of the fireplace…”

You gasped and arched into him when his teeth scraped against your nipple. Your every nerve was on fire and you wanted to push him away and pull him close at the same time. He crowded your every sense and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Hold me,” he murmured, “but not too hard. Save your strength for later.”

His mouth traveled further down, completely contradicting his command. He left a trail of biting kisses, pausing every so often to leave a mark.

“I t-though you wanted to help me sleep by telling the story,” you said, mind overwhelmed by the sensations he was eliciting.

“Yeah…but now I regret it. You’re not sleepy at all.” His gaze flicked back up to yours and his hand slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, into your underwear and you sucked in a breath when his fingers slid through your slick folds. “I need to try something else.”

In one swift motion, he had your shorts and underwear stripped from you and you laid bare beneath him save for your sweater and bra. He perched your legs on his shoulders, settling his face between your legs when he looked up at you with a predatory gaze.

“We won't wake up in time to…pick…strawberries in the morning.” His tongue found your clit and you gasped. He worked at you, licking, sucking, biting until you couldn’t hold back the sounds of your pleasure any longer. When it felt like you were about to fall over the edge, he stopped with a dark chuckle.

“The strawberries aren’t ripe…yet,” he said. He lifted himself from you, and your sound of protest died on your lips when you realized it was so that he could strip his own clothes from his body. He fell over you once more, his lips crashing against yours in a punishing kiss.

“I still have to ‘show’ you the rest of the story. You’ll get everything you could ever ask for. Just. Be. Patient.”

Sylus slipped his hips between your thighs once more, and you could feel the length of him resting hot and heavy against your pelvis. His mouth crashed into yours, coaxing you open so that his tongue could tangle with yours. His satisfied growl rumbled in his chest and you could feel it reverberate against you. Your knees came up to bracket his torso and you rolled your hips so that his cock slid against your folds.

You gave a self-satisfied chuckle when he moaned at the feel of you slick and ready for him. He silenced your mirth by positioning the tip at your entrance. Slow, so slow, he pushed into you. Pulled out, pushed back in. A pattern that left you brainless and trembling until he was finally sunk into you to the hilt.

“Fuck, Kitten, you feel so damn good,” he moaned against your neck. Your reply was drowned by a moan of your own when he pulled out only slightly and then slammed back into place. His cock dragged so deliciously against your walls, you could feel your climax building before he’d even done much.

He maintained that torturously slow pace, working you into a mess with his tongue and his hips. With every slow removal of his cock, he ground himself into you when pushed back in. You clenched around him automatically, as if your body didn’t want to let him leave your body.

“S-Sylus,” you whimpered into his mouth. He growled in response, his hips jerking forward.

“Again,” he said. At your sound of confusion, he added, “say my name again, Kitten.”

“Sylus,” you moaned against his neck. The sound of your desperation seemed to goad him on and he slammed into you.

“Again,” he commanded. He was getting rough, but your heart thundered with the excitement of him losing control.

“Sylus!” You cried, clinging to him as he plundered you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his pace picking up until the lewd sounds of your bodies joining rose with the crescendo of your moans. Your nails dug into his back as the last remnants of his control snapped and he relentlessly pounded into you. His hand gripped the back of the couch, the other one biting into your hip to give him leverage.

“Sylus,” you breathed, caressing his cheek with one hand and grasping his bicep with the other. He tilted his face into your touch, moaning explicitly against your palm with his eyes clenched shut. He was lost to the sensations of your body, to the sounds you made squirming beneath him, down to the scent of your love-making mixing with woodsmoke.

You hooked your ankles together at the back of his hips and a final clench of your walls around him was enough to throw him violently over the edge. He came with a guttural moan, a shout echoing into the room before he buried his face into your neck while he kept plunging into you with involuntary jerking movements. The twitching pulse of his cock flooding you with his cum brought you to the precipice with him. Your moans joined his as you clung desperately to him, your body milking him for every last drop.

He collapsed atop you, kissing and nuzzling every inch of skin that he could reach. His lips found yours in a tender kiss before he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes bounced between yours, an emotion you could only describe as love in his crimson gaze.

“Are you sleepy now?” He questioned with a cheeky grin. A grin you wiped off his face by clenching your walls on him. His cock twitched in anticipation inside you.

“Not in the least bit,” you replied, dragging his face back to yours.

As the night progressed, the two of you eventually made it to his bed, where you proceeded to explore each other further. You definitely did not get any sleep until the sun peeked over the distant mountains.

There was no way you’d be able to wake up in time to pick strawberries, even if they were in season.

[reasonsforhope]

"A recent court ruling from the Inter-American Court of Human Rights marks the first time an international judicial body has decided that indigenous peoples living in “voluntary isolation” have a right to do so, and that governments must act to ensure that right.

The ruling comes off the back of 20 years of activism challenging the Ecuadorian government’s encroachment on indigenous lands for oil drilling, and this, as well as other extractive activities like logging, were ruled to be intolerably disruptive to three groups living in voluntary isolation in the Ecuadorian Amazon.

International treaties protecting the rights of indigenous peoples have long been ratified at both the UN and the Organization of American States (OAS), but a case specifically determining whether a group living in voluntary isolation, which used to be called “uncontacted,” were guaranteed protection to allow them to continue doing so has never been ruled on.

While the United Nations Human Rights Council in 2009 and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights in 2013 introduced guidelines and recommendations that included a right to choose self-isolation, neither were put into writing under international law, nor included in any treaty amendments.

As such, the Costa Rica-based court’s decision that nation-states, in this case Ecuador, must follow a “precautionary principle” when making decisions about future oil operations that may impede a group’s ability to live in self-isolation.

“This principle means that, even in the absence of scientific certainty regarding oil exploration and exploitation projects’ impacts on this territory, effective measures must be adopted to prevent serious or irreversible damage, which in this case would be the contact of these isolated populations,” said the court opinion, written in Spanish, and translated by Inside Climate News.

The three groups in question are the Tagaeri, Taromenane, and Dugakaeri, who are part of the overall Waorani peoples since they share cultural traditions and language.

Testimony was heard from a community leader of the Waorani, Penti Baihua, and two young women who at the ages of 2 and 6 were survivors of violent encroachment by oil workers who killed members of the girls’ group, forcibly introduced them to modernity, and displaced them to different parts of the Amazon.

In the current case, the court ruled that a protected area the size of Delaware that was established in the early 2000s to guarantee indigenous Waorani (and others) rights was created in such a way as to leave oil exploration areas outside protection, despite being the ancestral home of Baihua and his people.

A 6-mile deep buffer zone surrounding the heart of the Tagaeri, Taromenane, and Dugakaeri’s territory called the “Intangible Zone,” has been repeatedly penetrated by extractive industries, which have built roads and other “colonial” infrastructure.

The court ruled that Ecuador must honor the results of a 2023 referendum, in which voters chose to stop oil operations in that region indefinitely.

The court used the term “living in voluntary isolation” to reflect that fact that there are no unconctacted tribes on Earth, but perhaps as many as 200 who have seen evidence of modernity, and received minimal contact—perhaps from a related tribe that doesn’t live in isolation—and chose to remain without any interaction with the modern world either out of fear or self-interest."

-via March 28, 2025